


Take A Look Around

by MaskedGamer



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (that much), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deadpool being Deadpool, Gen, Jason’s stranded in the middle of Queens, Peter wants to go home, Spider-Man/Deadpool (2016) #20, and has no idea about where he is, but he doesn’t kill in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-07-25 12:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedGamer/pseuds/MaskedGamer
Summary: This wasn’t Gotham, Jason Todd thought to himself, trying to stand up. No, it seemed far too lighter and brighter, unlike his own town where darkness met the eye at each junction. He just knew it.The last thing he remembered, he realized, was heading to his safe house before...He had found a lead on the case, and he’d got out again.





	1. Tough Luck (starring the Red Hood)

It was only eleven-twenty seven in the night, and things were normal.

Well, about as normal as it could get in Queens, where there was always some intergalactic slash super powered villain trying to take over the world. It was at this fact that some people wondered, why is it just this place? It couldn’t start from somewhere in the world like New Zealand, or Australia, or even India, but it always began right in the middle of the US of A which wasn’t very good news for the people.

At this particular point in time, Willow Lake was silent and serene. While the park across the road with the same name and an added ‘Park’ was noisy and filled to the brim, the water here was still, the moon finding its twin right below with success. 

That was until the surface began bubbling, and the peaceful air was shattered about as quickly as a problem occurring at the Avengers main base. 

The surface of the water burst apart as a figure gasped for air, a grey gloved hand reaching towards shore. That would have been excellent if they decided to shoot a movie depicting undead water-zombies with menacing attire and the whole thing was staged, but nope.

The person clawed at the grass, before sitting up, quivering violently as they grabbed the helmet and yanked it off, revealing a mop of black hair and unstoppable coughing. It seemed to be a male by the build, dressed in a rather peculiar Halloween costume in the middle of July.

“Fuck,” a seemingly barely used, gravelly voice whispered roughly, the source being the strange person himself. 

This wasn’t Gotham, Jason Todd thought to himself, trying to stand up. No. It seemed far too lighter and brighter, unlike his own town where darkness met the eye at each junction. He just knew it wasn’t where he was born, struck down, and reborn.

The last thing he remembered, he realized, was heading to his safe house before...

He had found a lead on the case, and he’d got out again.

Jason hated memory blanks. Especially when they blotted out all that happened over the course of the entirety of that time. He sat down again, wracking his brain for anything that surfaced.

Nope. Nothing since the cup of tea he’d been gracious enough to finish before leaving the dingy apartment to meet with Nightwing, who had been ever cheerier that night. 

Trust Dickface to know everything about his job and ‘lure’ him out of the safety of his own house. Jason swore that if his insufferable ex-brother (Dick didn’t agree to the added ‘ex’) hasn’t shown up, that mess, whatever it was, could have been easily avoided.

So yes, the two of them had set off with a lead and their individual skills to face the unknown. That wasn’t new. However, they’d been ambushed and the lead had turned out to be a ruse. Batman was off-world, and Red Robin had been on his way just before something happened. That something was the very thing he couldn’t remember, no matter how many times he slammed his palm against his head.

Right after that, Jason noticed that he was indeed wet, cold and shivering despite his armor. Wet and cold were, in his opinion, the worst combination ever since Damian and Tim in the same room. 

Jason figured he’d have to figure out where he was before he could do anything. 

The water, despite having ripples across it began to ease out as he stared at it for a long time, watching the moon and starless sky. While most of his memories had slowly come back, the gaping black hole of what had actually happened still prevailed, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He glanced around, cursing himself for not inspecting his surroundings soon enough, but there was no one around. 

The trees blew in the noiseless breeze, and he could hear only faint noises in the distance. Definitely not Gotham, where there was always someone laughing maniacally in a ten-mile radius.

Jason glared at the red helmet, which had fizzled out almost immediately with all the AR readings going dark. He couldn’t even figure out his own whereabouts with almost all his electronics dead, including his comm link and built in communicator. His guns seemed okay, and so did his other weapons.

He pulled out his phone, throwing it a few feet away from where he sat when he realized it wasn’t working either. 

Screw it, t’was a burner phone anyway. He had no internet, and no way to do anything.

There was the option of going towards the source of the faint noises and asking for directions. He couldn’t have gotten too far from his city anyway, and the Red Hood wasn’t a shadowed, unknown antihero. Then again, what did the Red Hood mean in this place? Better safe than sorry.

After a few attempts to make the gun holsters look a little less conspicuous, he looked at his helmet. Jason didn’t have a bag to hide it in, so he was stuck passing it off as a motorcycle helmet if anyone asked.

This still didn’t look anything like Blüdhaven, or Metropolis, or any other place he’d been to. 

Jason sighed, more in irritation than resignation. Fuck, here was another place to add to the roster of places he’d miraculously ended up in during the worst of times.

The trees were far too green around these parts, almost unnervingly so. The grass was wet under his feet, and a cool breeze blew against his face. He reached for the mask on his face, relaxing a bit when he found it where it was supposed to be. The domino mask definitely wasn’t his Sunday best, but it was functional. For now.

Jason crept amongst the dense trees, spotting the expected stretch of asphalt up ahead. Cars still sped about, albeit not that many. Looking both ways, he sped across the road, stopping behind a particularly large oak beside the sidewalk.

The sound of a basketball bouncing and shoes screeching against the court ground reached his ears, and he saw the court almost immediately despite the thick expanse of vegetation.

A player wearing a jersey with the number 30 across the front looked up at the thick expanse of trees ahead. He thought he’d heard a slight rustling. After deciding he wasn’t getting a pass, he turned to face the bush with a wary eye.

Squinting at it for a few seconds, he noticed that the movement seemed to have ceased. He decided that no one was there, shrugged and turned back to his friends, shooting a three just as the ball reached his hands.

No one noticed the shadow moving through the park in the darkness.

-

He’d have to find the city, which wouldn’t be too hard. Jason’s best bet of figuring out where he was could only be some TV local news, or even newspapers. Maybe there were some people from the Justice Society here, since every city had one kind of hero these days.

Jason snuck around, but for the most part, people seemed unbothered. So he stopped skulking around and walked down the busy pavement, ducking his head. He did get a few strange looks, but that was it. It helped his case that it was dark and not many people were about at the time.

City noises here were different. On the left, he could hear cars moving past, and on the right, he could hear people talking, TV’s blaring and feet hitting the sidewalk. No impromptu screaming.

At some point, he came across an alley, shadowed and dark. A few trashcans stood beside each other in a row, and that was when Jason spotted a newspaper at the top of the pile, held down by what looked like a can.

It disintegrated in his hands, but he could read what was written on it. The date hinted that the newspaper itself was about fifteen to twenty weeks old. Nothing too concerning.

The headlines weren’t that significant - about a celebrity, so he skimmed through it for any mention of location. On the second page, something caught his eye. ‘According to reports, its stated that about zero point zero three percent of the population here at Queens has a fifty six percent chance of being a mutant from birth.’

Those statistics were riveting, to say the least. Back home, he didn’t think stuff like this could be put in local newspapers.

He let it fly back from where he’d picked it up, before climbing up the fire escape of the nearest building, which wasn’t that big. He could easily jump down from the second floor, he decided right after finding the empty room connected to the balcony above the alley below.

Queens, he thought, looking below at the landscape from where he stood on the windowless gap in the wall on the highest floor. Nice place.

And that was when Jason spotted the thugs. 

The building was low enough and was facing the alley; it was easy to hear what they were saying, and if he wanted to survive here, he needed to catch up on daily happenings. Maybe get some connections.

“-says that we should stay low,” Fanny McFatass said, pointing at Thug Two from where he stood. “We don’t want no trouble.”

The discussion on that topic seemed to have just ended. Jason heard about the guys’ families and general things, which he filtered out, scanning for anything important.

“Y’know, maybe the Spider ain’t that bad.”

“What?! You forgot about gettin’ webbed to the wall for hours?” Two said incredulously, shaking his head. “Fuck him. He’s a menace.”

“Naw,” Three said earnestly, “he saved my kid. Helped her home even. Gave her a fist bump, she says, and she’s been so happy these days.”

“You gettin’ soft, Theo,” Fanny said, shaking his head. “But yeah, he ain’t as bad as Deadpool.”

“That fucker’s off his rocker,” Two hissed through clenched teeth. “Shot me in the fucking foot, while dancing around like some ballerina.”

“That sucks. Ya piss him off?”

The three turned to face Jason, who was smirking and walking towards them. He’d hopped off the side of the building, the sound proofed soles of his boots masking the sound. The three remained tense however, eyeing him.

“You ain’t from ‘round here, huh?” Fanny mused, sizing him up. Jason continued inching forward. “How could ya tell?”

“The accent,” Two said simply. “You sound different.”

“What do you want.” Fanny said immediately, on his guard when he noticed he was coming forward with every step.

“Eh, wanted to know,” Jason shrugged. “Just exactly why ‘Deadpool’ would attack some nice guys like yourselves.” 

Two was just about to retort when the other one nudged him, staring at him. “Hey,” Theo hissed. “He’s got guns.”

All of them fixed their gazes on his gun holsters, which were suddenly more visible than the Bat signal at night. 

Shit.

They all bolted, but Jason didn’t follow. He’d gotten what he was there for.

The trio had left their cash and poker chips all on the small table in the alley, which he grinned at, scooping up most of the cash. It would probably last him for just a few days, but that would be enough for now. Better than his state now anyway.

Jason found his way to a motel nearby, renting a room so he could crash for the night. The lady at the desk gave him no strange looks at all, but informed him that there was a clothes store right down the block. What she had implied, he didn’t know.

Queens. He’d figure out everything else tomorrow, when his bones didn’t feel like lead.


	2. Lemme Get This Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, Jason thought to himself as he read through biographies of said heroes.
> 
> He snorted at the thought of them revealing their identities to the public. Either Bruce would fake his death six times just for kicks, the world would target their closest associates, or they’d have to come up with a reason for why Jason Todd was still walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m early. For once. 
> 
> I’m on summer vacation, so I’m working faster for now. Don’t count on it, though.

Jason had finally bought some civilian clothes. A simple dark hoodie and a pair of jeans from the second hand store around the corner were the best he could get. He even bought a backpack so he could put all his gear somewhere without someone freaking out.

He’d walked out during the daytime, blinking at the sun like it was a foreign entity he’d never seen before. Jason wasn’t used to being able to walk out without worrying about his identity, and it felt like he was free from everything the world had to throw at him.  No one gave him second looks, the world wasn’t glaring his way, and people weren’t murdering each other. 

That was new.

He had looked around warily at others, but no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Everyone was wrapped in their own lives to look at him for once. 

He’d talked to the receptionist lady, who told him about all the closest destinations and places he could visit if he wasn’t a serial killer. She mentioned the word ‘library’ just once, but a smile lit up his features almost immediately. Obviously, he left for the best place on earth in his opinion right after breakfast. It was in the middle of a constricted, tight alleyway, something he’d gotten used to as a kid.

As of now, he was flipping through old newspapers, trying to find mentions of the Justice Society anywhere. 

So far, he hadn’t found anything. He looked up, just marveling at the sight for a few seconds. 

The library had always felt like a second home, and it felt exactly like that despite the fact that he was in a completely different city, leafing through newspapers instead of something like Narnia. Still nothing, he realized when he looked down and saw that the stack of newspapers he’d placed in a pile ‘to check’ were now all in the ‘checked, but nothing’ pile.

Frustrated, Jason walked up to the librarian’s table, where she sat, reading a book. Wyrd Sisters, by the looks of it. “Hey,” he squinted at her name-tag, “Miss Kurt. Where can I find old newspapers? Like, really old ones.”

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” Kurt replied coolly, looking up at him with a gaze of steel.  Then again, Jason didn’t really know what exactly he was searching for, so he shrugged. She peered over at the newspapers he was going through across her desk, and a knowing look crossed her features. 

“Unless you’re a nosy reporter diggin’ up dirt on someone, you wouldn’t be doing this. But you don’t look the part. Spider-Man’s the one you’re looking for, isn’t it?” It sounded like she said the same thing a lot.

“I- yes?” That was probably the Spider everyone was talking about.

“Hmph. Everyone’s wants to see Spider-Man these days. I’m surprised he hasn’t written an autobiography with the flattering pictures.” Kurt stood up and walked towards the shelves, Jason right behind her. “Come along now, and for god’s sake, please keep the newspapers you picked back where you got them from.”

“I will,” he muttered, and he wasn’t kidding. 

“You went through the general collection,” Kurt said, bringing him towards another shelf stocked with newspapers that was hidden from view. “This is the section exclusively for all superheroes, the Avengers, and whatnot. People love these for a reason beyond me.” Avengers?

The librarian seemed to take his silence as impatience, and immediately pointed to a room in the back. “If you’d like, we have computers you can use.”

His jaw dropped. He’d thought this was one of the secluded neighborhoods, and the library was small in comparison to the ones he’d known. Once again, Kurt noticed his surprise.

“Well, Tony Stark, being the essentially selfless soul he is, decided that all libraries and entities that can be publicly accessed for information exchange should be stocked with digital items.” she replied, almost like she’d read it from somewhere. “He’s rolling in the cash after all. Doesn’t hesitate to use it all for some kind of good.”

“Tony Stark. Right.” The billionaire here. He had come across his name in a few paragraphs, but he couldn’t understand why Bruce didn’t mention the man even once in all the discussions they’d ever had.

Kurt looked a bit more concerned at that moment. “You... Are you new here?” 

Jason decided that it wasn’t worth deflecting the question, because it was painfully obvious at this point. “I just moved here,” he said instead, playing the part of a clueless immigrant. “Didn’t know where to begin, so I went lookin’ for ‘em superheroes. Awareness is key, huh?” He tried for a smile.

“Oh..” she frowned, almost like she was contemplating something. “Well, there are computers if you need to research anything you want to know. I thought the Avengers were a well-known organization across the globe, though.”

That name again. “Uh.. it was a closeted town,” he said instantly, because that was what Gotham definitely wasn’t. “Didn’t see any action.” Fuck, this lady was observant alright. 

“I see. Well,” she turned towards the way leading to her desk near the entrance, “have a good day...”

“Jay,” he blurted out. “I’m Jay.”

It was the easiest name to use, and no one would question his identity that way. He didn’t want his ‘death’ fucking up everything, especially when it was a fragile subject at this point with people already smartening up. She still turned to face him however, with a look that was pointed enough.

“Hm. Jay, it is.” Kurt went her way. 

Jason scooped up a stack of newspapers and pushed open the door to the secluded computer room, a little more than glad when he saw it was empty. 

The room itself was quite small, with four computers lined up across the wall, right in front of the door. The walls in question were shaded in dark yellow, and the ceiling was blue. It was quite different from the darker library; the lights were much brighter, warmer, and almost yellowish, like it was made to mimic natural sunlight.

Setting them down near a seemingly functional computer, he started the machine up, grinning at the screen. It had been long enough since he’d been let near a device here, enough to leave him uncomfortable.

His earpiece felt too silent, and so did everything else here. It had been... nice, having either Oracle on one end or Roy, who chatted his ear off most of the time, even in daylight. He was legally dead after all, so he couldn’t just waltz in and out of his safe house all the time.

Gah, he was getting sentimental. It had just been a day.

The computer was working well enough, and he went on to Google without a problem.  Jason scowled at the screen, thinking about all that he’d learned from those newspapers. He picked up the ones he’d brought from the other stack, looking at the images of some masked heroes he’d never seen before. There was a recurring theme, however.

He typed in, ‘justice society’ and hit search.

He was used to seeing articles about whether the Justice League was a questionablething. Whether metas were a questionable thing, and whether vigilantes were equally questionable. He’d read tweets, threads and discussions debating the best JL member, the worst JL member, the pissiest one, the stupidest one, everything from the sky to the core. 

There were even some that debated on their identities, and while some people suspected Bruce Wayne was the Batman, or that Diana Prince was Wonder Woman, they were shut down almost comically fast.

What he’d never, ever seen before, was a search coming up with exactly none of those things. A search ranging from a children’s clothing store to restaurants and... completely normal, everyday things.

There was pit of something settling in his stomach, and he hated every second of it.

‘Batman’, he typed, because who wouldn’t have heard of the Caped Crusader? 

The search brought up descriptions of the animal, British American Tobacco, and news of what looked like a bat attacking a human, but no Batman. Nothing about the hero who had saved the world in almost every way. It was almost cruel.

‘Superman.’

‘Justice League.’

‘Wayne Enterprises.’

‘Justice League of America,” because, obviously the computer needed a specification that specific.

‘Bruce Wayne,’ he finally tried. Of course, Bruce had contributed to charities, he was the head of Wayne Enterprises, he was filthy rich, there had to be something-

Nothing. Nothing at all.

‘Gotham City.’

‘Metropolis.’ Funny, there was a popcorn store with that name.

‘Red Hood,’ just to save the bits of his failing calm. He only saw maroon colored hoodies and no shots of himself, and that was when he understood.

But it wasn’t likely. Or... it was.

Jason’s brain protested against such a possibility, of course. The network could be bugged. The searches could be blocked. But it didn’t align with what had been going on. Something else was at work here.

He’d heard about universal and temporal displacement from Tim, on one of their rare lunches together.

Temporal displacement was what Bruce had gone through, and jumping dimensions was another variable that they had to be ready for, he had said, sipping on a Diet Coke that Jason had somehow gotten him to drink. And right now, everything checked the boxes.

It seemed like the world was laughing at him right about now. First death, and now displacement.

A different fucking universe. 

Mother Nature was such a bitch.

No, he wasn’t panicking. He was the Red Hood, and Red Hood didn’t panic. Even when he was in a completely different world. Jason had lived on the streets, and he’d fended off trouble just fine. It was fine. 

He suddenly found his gaze drifting back to the newspapers on the table, with the bold, black headlines. The Avengers.

He typed ‘avengers.’

Instantly, a heck load of shit popped up. News, tabloids, gossip, images, Wiki pages, merchandise, tweets, threads - everything he’d expected earlier. They were the hero group in this universe, apparently, and there was an entire band of them plus extras he’d definitely never seen before. If he needed anymore proof, it was right here.

Jason groaned. He was going to need many beers when he got back.

If he got back.

Mentally punching himself in the ribs, he looked up at the ceiling. No, he wasn’t going to be stuck here forever. He’s going to find his way home, knock some heads sideways, and then find Dick and punch him in the perfect pearly whites. This was all that bastard’s fault, somehow.

He typed, ‘queens’ and sat back a bit in his chair. ‘Description - Queens is a New York City borough on Long Island across the East River from Manhattan.’ Only when he saw the location map did he lean forward, staring at the screen in a bit of disbelief. 

The map practically mirrored Gotham’s map. 

Yes, he’d spent months staring at the landmass on a screen when he’d come fresh from the Pit, probably cackling “mine! Mine!” like some kind of crazed warlord, but the only good that came from that was the fact that it was ingrained into his memory. He knew every nook and cranny of his city, exactly the way he knew his weapons. All up close and personal.

No wonder it felt so wrong here, but familiar all at once. He didn’t have a Queens back there, and here the whole area was called New York City, something that seemed both wrong and right together.

More proof that he wasn’t delusional. What joy.

Jason stared at the screen with a face that could have either spelled dread or absolute awe. There was a ton of research he would have to do. Of course, he couldn’t build himself a machine to take him back home - that was more Tim’s department - but he could be very, very convincing. And to do that effectively, he needed information.

Specifically, classified information. Identities would do, he decided, but it turned out that the entire world knew that Iron Man was Tony Stark, or Captain America was Steve Rogers. He decided that the deeper digging could wait, when he came back a second time. Sitting here for far too long was going to be suspicious.

Man, Jason thought to himself as he read through biographies of said heroes. They’d shared their identities with the world, and they were evidently loved and praised. Well, mostly.

He snorted at the thought of them revealing their identities to the public. Either Bruce would fake his death six times just for kicks, the world would target their closest associates with them included, they’d have to come up with a reason for why Jason Todd was still walking, or where the actual heck the brat came from.

Nah, he liked stuff the way they were. 

He settled back into the chair, and while giving himself a mental pep talk, he made himself a bit comfortable, flipping through the next website that held a brief history of the place he’d miraculously ended up in.

This was going to take a while. And he wasn’t complaining.

-

Did he want to suit up at night? Yes. 

This wasn’t his world, but Jason had to make a stance here as well. He hadn’t seen any vigilantes the night before and in the day, so it was safe to assume that no one was around for now.

He tapped the top of his helmet with a sigh, trying to fix it with the tools he had borrowed from the nearest mechanics store. It wasn’t cracked, but it’s insides were probably screwed with during the time of his displacement. He didn’t know.

The wires seemed fine, and the internal circuitry wasn’t fried. Prodding at a stray chip with his tweezers, Jason frowned down at all the pieces lying before him on the bed. There wasn’t anything apparently wrong with his helmet, but then why weren’t the AR mechanics working?

He gave up at some point when the moon was suddenly up in the sky. That was when he remembered that there  were superheroes here that he could go ask for help. 

There were quite a few of them who were really skilled in that field, but then he realized that he couldn’t trust any of them not to mess with it since he came from an entirely different universe. If he went to them, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t lock him up like an experiment, as noble as they were.

All of them were super-powered in some way, except Stark, but he wasn’t taking that risk. Stark seemed a little too much like Bruce for his taste. 

One man caught his eye in the list of the Top Ten Most Influential People in NYC, however.

Peter Parker. 

A scientist turned industrialist, President and CEO of Parker Industries, and he seemed pretty decent. College records were good, and he was a sharp one. Baxter Building was nearby, and he wouldn’t have a problem getting in.

The one thing he had immediately noticed about this guy, through the few interviews and sightings in public he’d seen was the fact that Parker wasn’t used to the limelight. 

It wasn’t that apparent, but with all the years he’d spent with Bruce, he could tell. Parker had the natural charm, and he could talk his way out of a situation, but that subtle discomfort was still there, or at least a bit of it. He was young in comparison to all the other industrialists, but Jason knew firsthand that it wasn’t a contributing factor at all.

Then there was also the fact that he supplied items for Spider-Man. While that wasn’t very impressive (because Bruce Wayne also ‘supplied’ items for Batman), Jason noticed that this fact was kept on a relative low. It wasn’t talked about that much, not as much as the Batman theorists anyway. 

Jason didn’t really debate much on whether the guy was Spider-Man in secret or not, despite the fact being useful. He needed a job done and some help to get back home, and after he’d gone through a little bit more on Parker, decided he was an option. Just an option. Because personas could be faked, and in all universes, there were always narcissistic pricks and egotistic jerks.

In fact, he even had ties to people at the Avengers Tower. 

The Red Hood, he decided, putting on his nonfunctional helmet for the fear factor more than anything, needed to meet Spider-Man. He wasn’t going to break into Parker Industries and demand to see him, of course. He would get in action now, and soon enough, Spider-Man would find him instead of the other way around. After he built up his rep, it should all fall into place.

And that was the kind of logic that had him fighting thugs and criminals all night. Guns out, rubber bullets in, some broken bones, and the occasional punch. 

The goons here were surprisingly only a bit less violent than those from Gotham, which he wasn’t complaining about. At least he didn’t have to deal with a gunshot wound today, since these guys weren’t expecting him around.

He attacked when it was necessary - muggings, people stealing, all the small scale stuff. There wasn’t too much action, but it was enough.

“‘Ey, who’s that?” A guy in a black ski mask whispered to his partner, who was staring at his figure perched onto the balcony of the nearest empty building. They were emerging out of the back of a store, alarms blaring and the police probably on their way.

“Looks like one of them assassins. Hey, maybe he’ll help. ‘Ey! You!”

Jason remained seemingly motionless, only a single hand drifting to his left gun holster in the dark. The guy caught his movement, and immediately backtracked. 

“Wait, wait! Ya want the cash, we’ll give it to ya. Don’t...”

“And what if I don’t want the cash?” Jason said, a little more than glad when he heard the garbled voice of the Red Hood come out. 

“He’s a goody-two-shoes one,” the first one hissed. “Shut your trap,” the other yelled, “he’s gonna shoot!”

The Red Hood jumped down, red helmet gleaming under the yellow streetlight. The bat symbol shone a metallic red, and he looked menacing as he stalked towards them. “What the fuck are you stealin’?” 

The two backed away slowly, but Hood had led them right into a dead ended alleyway. The first, realizing that all was lost now, ran at Hood with his fists out. He ducked and punched the man in the stomach, causing him to fly back, all the breath knocked out of him.

“Answer me,” Hood said, shooting the second guy in the foot when he was trying to run. Despite it being a rubber bullet, it still hurt as good, for the man howled and fell over, passing out almost instantly. Weak.

The first man whipped out a pistol, attempting to shoot him, but before he could so much as get a finger on the trigger, the vigilante shot a batarang at him. He yelled out as he dropped the gun and clutched his hand, attempting to run when he realized there was no way out, but he didn’t get too far.

“Who the fuck are you, freak?” The guy yelled, as Hood closed the distance between them. “Who-“

“Bang bang,” Hood muttered, shooting the guy. 

It wouldn’t kill him, but would simply incapacitate him until the cops showed up. He scooped up the bags of items, going through them to make sure nothing vital was taken. 

All normal stuff. Too normal, until Jason opened up the toothpaste and squeezed some out, only to find that it wasn’t toothpaste.

Clutching the bag in barely contained anger, he stalked towards the store where the two had emerged from. There was some questioning to be done.

-

{My head’s exploding. Shoot the fucker in the face!}

[You don’t have a head, you idiot. But I second that.]

{Make him bleed, make him pay! The cops ain’t here yet today!}

“We can’t shoot him, stupid,” Deadpool scoffed, watching the strange man pick up the black bags and head towards the busted door of the convenience store. “We promised Spidey we wouldn’t.”

[But he’s not here now, is he?]

“That was a nice store,” he said wistfully, watching the cars pull up on the side. “I got my Garfield toothbrush from there. And my Hello Kitty bandaids.”

{Brother bought a coconut, he bought it for a dime} Yellow sang.

“His sister had another one she paid it for a lime,” Deadpool said half-heartedly, still watching. He’d gone right inside the store, and grabbed the man, Gordon, behind the counter by the scruff of his shirt.

[He looks dangerous] White said, malice lacing their tone. [I say we sneak up behind him and kill him. Blood’s probably as red as that helmet.]

{SHE PUT the lime in the coconut, she drank 'em BO-}

[Ooh, sign me up for coconut water. Shit’s AMAZING!]

{I WANT MY FLIP FLOPS BACK}

Yes, Deadpool was sitting atop the small balcony with nothing more than his mask, a questionably floral shirt, shorts and formerly some flip flops, which had fallen off his swinging feet down on to the ground. He was sure that they were under some car at this point but then again, his flip flops had a way of disappearing every other day.

{There’s only one explanation for this}

[Yeah, one you can’t come up with]

{I AM A RESPECTABLE MEMBER OF SOCIETY, TO EVEN INSINUATE-}

Deadpool tuned out his boxes for a few seconds, jumping down to hear what was going on downstairs. The person - hitman? Assassin? HYDRA agent? - seemed to be fighting six men, each one armed with more than just a pistol. And man was he skilled.

One man in black tried to flee the scene immediately, but was shot by Red Helmet in the knee caps. 

“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” he muttered to himself. Deadpool figured that Red Helmet was evidently trained, but he was firing non-lethal shots. He seemed capable of killing, but he wasn’t. “Still, he looks like Daredevil went biker.”

{And lost the motorcycle in a bet to a guy in a chiffon skirt, so he went to get revenge}

[Pfft, that’s like every single comedy ever]

{Whose laughing now? Clearly not all the people who just got shot}

“Holy Cindy Brad buying seashells, he’s got a moral complex,” he hissed. “I see the rubber bullets.” Sure enough, Red Helmet’s bullets weren’t drawing blood, something that nagged at him almost immediately. The boxes didn’t take much time to bring it in for discussion.

{Spidey’s seeing someone else?! I thought what we had was special}

[He’s leaving. Just like everyone else who’s seen your ugly mug]

“Spidey doesn’t know him! He’s been in Manhattan for weeks now,” Deadpool stroked an invisible beard. He kind of wished he hadn’t thrown away the one he’d bought last Christmas for the festivities. “Iron Dick’s been keeping an eye on him, remember?”

{And when did that work?}

“A solid point made.” He stood up and stretched, sighing when he felt a crack. “New J’s gotta be better than this, ‘cause man, I wanna go to a nice diner.” 

He was hoping that there weren’t any more Red helmed copycats running around. If he pulled out katanas right now, someone had to hold this guy to copyright. Deadpool knew he should probably tell Spider-Man, because that what best teammates forever supposedly did.

[Spidey knows about this guy, and I’m betting a foot]

{You don’t have a foot to bet, you loser}

“Put the lime in the coconut, you drink 'em bot' up,” and with that, Wade Wilson zipped off into the night without much of a thought.

[Shush, child. The grownups will handle this one]

{Why the fuck do we care, anyway?}

[We don’t. And everyone probably already knows. As usual, we’re late to the party]

”Precisely,” he said, a little too excited. “And besides, I’ve got something else I gotta do. Little Red Riding Punk gotta wait his turn.” 


	3. So It’s A Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He continued walking, lost in thought. The world continued its rounds, the cars were all speeding across, people talked, news reporters on the televisions in the stores were speaking of a new masked menace spotted around Queens-
> 
> Wait. What.
> 
> Instantly, he rushed back to store, pressing his face slightly against the glass, eyes wide.

Despite it being the late evening, the vigilante had come across a mugging right on his way to the new motel he’d moved to. Tucking the small can of pink spray paint he’d bought into a pouch, he pulled out a gun and made a show of loading it up.

“Alright, ya shits. Give back the bags, and I might let ya get home without a broken leg. Capiche?”

The man spat on the ground right next to the woman, who was quiet about the whole ordeal, watching him with a degree of fear and not the man who had stolen her stuff. Hood decided that this must have been the norm. “I ain’t going to give it to you, freak. What kinda idiot do you take me for?”

“A big one, that’s fo’ sure,” Hood snarled, the pseudo friendly disposition vanishing in an instant. The goon pulled out a jagged knife from his pocket, and grabbed the woman, holding it to her throat. “You make a move, I’ll slit it.”

Hood whipped out a batarang, which hit his hand and made him drop the knife with a hiss of pain. In a state of panic, the goon pulled out a shotgun, aiming it straight at him. “I-I’ll shoot!”

“Jesus, do you guys never learn?” Hood had been at this for three nights now, and for some reason, these guys always thought that by pulling out a single gun, he would immediately cower and submit to their demands. Sheesh, and he thought the Joker’s henchmen were stupid.

Pulling out his grapple hook, he aimed it at Jerkface, making sure it connected before retracting it. He yelped as he was dragged along the floor attempting to stand up, only to be met with a swift elbow strike, pushing him back, face-down against the ground. 

As a few drops of blood fell across the floor, he attempted to get up, but that just resulted in a sharp kick to the face, sending him flying back, knocked out cold. 

Hood swiped up the bags and handed them to the lady, who looked somewhere between thankful and disapproving.

She attempted to walk off, but Hood retracted his grapple once again, placing it back onto his utility belt. “Let me help you with that.”

“No! I don’t need any help!” She grabbed her bags and walked off, surprisingly fast. He followed however, still holding one bag that she’d left behind. 

“Stop following me-“ she paused when she saw the bag in his hands. “Give me that. L-Leave, now.”

Hood raised his hands in a surrender and handed her the bag, which she snatched back, glaring at him before walking off. He knew a lot about respecting personal space, but jeez, that was a bit over the top. Whatever worked, however.

He made sure the lady made it safely back home, jumping across rooftops. She seemed to be in her late sixties, by the looks of it, and he was sure she didn’t want another incident. Some folks, he noticed over the course of the night, really hated heroes. Some newspapers endorsed it, some people preached it, others were easily influenced or people didn’t really know what to believe. 

It was a debatable issue after all, one that was still discussed even back home, unable to be resolved. 

When he finally sat on the edge of a building a few hours later after doing what he had to, watching the city below, he suddenly felt a bit out of place.

He needed to get back to Gotham. He wanted to see his teammates, the Outlaws again. He wanted to see Roy, chat with Tim, fight alongside his insufferable ‘family’, volunteer at that shelter across the street. He’d even go along with seeing Bruce without walking out of the room or attempting to shoot him. 

He wondered what they were doing now, if they were looking for him. Hood scoffed to himself at the thought. Nah, they wouldn’t come looking for a criminal. He was the black sheep, the shorter string. They were probably glad to toss him out anyway, if not earlier.

He swung back in through the window into the room he’d rented, deep in thought. 

When Jason had finally closed his burning eyes, mind cluttered with all the information he’d gathered, he sighed, turned over and slept for the next few hours. He had a lot of a work to do it he wanted to get home.

-

It was a fine evening, the sun was setting and the sky was red and only smudged into darkness a bit. That was always the setting for when the biggest of problems seemed to occur. Just look at Frodo Baggins and the Shire.

The sidewalk was bustling with people, and among those people was one Peter Parker, who was hurrying along while talking to his aunt, and trying not to drop his work bag. Cars honked, people shoved and damn, the weather was sort of nice today.

“Yes, Aunt May,” he said, trying to ignore the chewing gum he’d stepped on at some point at the bottom of his shoe. “No, I haven’t forgotten about dinner! I just left the office, and I’m on my way,” She responded with disbelief, which Peter didn’t really blame her for. He did always miss dinners for some reasons involving crime and a certain job that required a red and blue suit.

“No, I swear!” he insisted, because he was, in fact, on his way right after he’d cleared up things at work. “I’m really-“

It was at that point that the universe decided to mess up everything, again.

“_PETER PARKER!_”

An all too familiar female voice screeched his name, and he turned his head towards the direction of the voice, right to see the indignant, impatient face of the one and only woman who would approach him in a luxury car with the window pulled down.

Valeria Colon. _Fuck_.

“Uh, Aunt May? I’m going to have to call you back,” he muttered sheepishly, and while she complied, it didn’t go without some amount of background grumbling. Tucking his phone into his blazer’s pocket, he turned to face the woman with a degree of wariness that was probably well justified.

“Ms Colon. How can I help you?” No, he didn’t want to meet her today.

Glass with some unknown alcoholic drink in hand, white hair perfectly styled, and the irritated look on her face were exactly the same things he’d seen the last time he’d met Valeria Colon. She was beckoning him to enter the car, which he dodged, dutifully ignoring the cues. Her brown eyes pierced through his own, as she scowled and glared at him.

“Cut the crap, Mr Parker,” she snapped, “you know exactly why I’m here.” Well, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. The second one was more likely, because he’d been out of a few loops for a while.

“You’ve been dodging my emails and all my phone-calls this entire time. Did you really think that I wouldn’t know why? That I don’t know my own reputation? Well, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Peter stayed silent, because if he didn’t he’d blurt out something he didn’t want to say. Shit, why did she have to approach him today? He was, well, occupied last week, especially with the Itsy Bitsy business. Of course, he couldn’t say that but it was right at the tip of his tongue, ready to come spilling out like OJ from an overturned glass.

He wasn’t afraid of her in the slightest, though that was a pretense he couldn’t drop.

“Well, you can relax a bit,” she said, taking his silence as tenseness, “because I’m not looking to buy the Baxter Building right under your nose and convert them into some nice luxury condos, oh no.” She could make pokes like that, being a millionaire businesswoman. 

“What I want to talk to you about today is quite personal, Parker. Get into the car.” 

“Uh...”

“Do you really think that even if I wanted to abduct you, I would do so in the midst of such a crowd, all by myself?” No, he didn’t. He was just thinking about the last time something ‘personal’ had come up with someone. And Aunt May. Definitely Aunt May.

“This can’t take too long, Ms Colon. I’ve got somewhere else I need to be,” he said. He stepped into the car, which took off the minute he was seated. Closing the door, he turned to the person on his right, who scowled. “Don’t worry, Parker. I’ll be brief.”

She took a sip of her drink, ice cubes tinkling against the sides of the glass. “Do you remember Spider-Man’s first fight with the Vulture?”

_She knows. _

_She knew he was Spider-Man._

“Why would...”

“Because you were there. You were a photographer for the Daily Bugle. Ring any bells now, Parker?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Okay. No identity crisis. Yet.

She held up a rather old, dated, wrinkled Daily Bugle copy, the front image being one that he remembered all too well. The Vulture and Spider-Man in a vicious brawl, wings out and the webs flying. ‘SPIDER MENACE AND VULTURE TERRORIZE MANHATTAN!’

“I mean- yeah, I guess I was there,” he said, eyebrows furrowed, “that is my name in the photo credits, but we’re talking about years ago. What’s so important about-“

“What’s important?” She glared at the partition in front. “What’s important is my husband Ferraro. He was there that day too, amongst all the wreckage. And in the chaos caused by these two costumed buffoons fighting, some terrified civilian ran into him with their car and killed him.” 

“Oh, no. No...” he felt sick. As if he needed anymore to convince him that the superhero gig was a terrible idea. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and formed words instead, summoning his business persona. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

A car honked outside, just as the traffic light turned green. “I just need to see your negatives from that night. If there’s a chance that...” the earlier facade was gone, replaced with a grieving widow who was only searching for any way to remember her husband. That he had caused the loss of. “Please.”

“My negatives?” 

“Mr Parker, it is possible that you took a picture of my husband’s last moments alive.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, desperation clear in her eyes.

It was. Perhaps.

“I-I don’t have them. And even if they still exist,” he stared at the newspaper in his hands, “they’re probably locked up at the Bugle’s archives in Jersey...” and JJ Jameson was definitely not going to be all hugs and smiles. But...

“I still have some contacts at the Bugle,” he assured Valeria, “I promise to do everything in my power to get you those negatives. And for all it’s worth,” he lowered his voice a bit, “I’m so, so sorry for what happened.”

The car halted near the same spot he’d been picked up from, and as he stepped out, she gave him a smile, one that looked a lot more genuine than ones he had seen plastered across magazine pages. “Thank you.”

“Y’know,” she smirked, “it’s funny. It was only a week ago I learned that you used to be a news photographer. My lawyers were putting together a profile of you and I saw their notation, and I pulled out this old Daily Bugle which I’ve looked at thousands of times. And would you believe it,” she pointed out his name on the sheet, “there it was all along. Your name.”

“Wait, why were your lawyers putting together a profile on me?”

Valeria’s eyes gleamed with something unknown. “Oh! Because the Baxter Building would make an absolutely fantastic location for some luxury condos.”

She rolled up the window, and the car sped past, leaving behind a barely noticeable cloud of smoke. Peter watched it go, expression unreadable.

First Uncle Ben, then Gwen Stacy, and now Ferraro Colon. Dead because of this crusade he’d begun.

He continued walking, lost in thought. The world continued its rounds, the cars were all speeding across, people talked, news reporters on the televisions in the stores were speaking of a new masked menace spotted around Queens-

Wait. What.

Instantly, he rushed back to store, pressing his face slightly against the glass, eyes wide. 

“Witnesses say they’ve spotted a mysterious vigilante assisting them or beating up various criminals throughout the borough. The mysterious person calls himself the ‘Red Hood’ and is allegedly the one responsible for the rise in patients at clinics and hospitals in the areas over the last few days. Here’s an image for the viewers at home.”

A blurry image of the man punching a mugger in black flashed on to the screen, a red helmet, a brown jacket and armor being the only things that were actually visible. Peter’s eyes widened in alarm. This guy was near Aunt May’s location.

“While we are unaware of his intentions, the Red Hood seems to have only assisted the police force in capturing a few criminals. His usage of brutal force, however, draws both support and criticism.” Jameson’s face took over immediately, and at that point Peter turned out everything else that was being said.

There was a potential villain where his Aunt lived. There was a threat in the middle of the place where he’d grown up, and yet here he was. What a great superhero he was.

The guy reminded him of the Red Skull, but he didn’t seem like a HYDRA agent. He didn’t disregard the possibility, however. Was someone targeting him? There was only one other masked mostly-good man in that vicinity, but he-

Deadpool.

Deadpool must’ve come across this guy. Deadpool hadn’t said anything, however. He hadn’t even contacted him since Itsy Bitsy, be it for work or general matters. Peter had assumed that he wanted space, especially after everything that had transpired.

Or maybe he was overthinking things and DP hadn’t come across the stranger on his turf. That was probably the case, since the Avengers would have already found the Red Hood if Wade had told them about it.

He picked up his burner phone and tried to dial in his number, but it took him straight to voicemail, just as it had a few days ago. Peter didn’t feel like leaving another voicemail because he’d tired out his share of sent ones, but he left one anyway based on the hollow hope that maybe he would return the call this time. If not because they were officially buddies, it would be for business.

Peter didn’t know what to make of the ex-mercenary for a long time. He guessed (and thus, concluded) that they could be called friends, because no acquaintances embark on emotionally scarring adventures together and come back on semi-okay terms. Or got ice cream together after said emotionally scarring adventure and stuffed their faces in while lamenting over how cruel fate was.

“Hey, Wade. It’s Spider-Man,” he paused, walking towards a silent area. “There’s... another one, near Forest Hills. Have you seen him around before? I’m wondering if he’s trouble to be dealt with. Just,” he scowled, “call me back so we can take care of this. Alright?”

Peter didn’t know why he didn’t call the Avengers on this. 

Then again, they would find out soon enough. It was better he did something about it before they did.

It was his turf, he thought. And he took care of his own problems. They didn’t need the Avengers around. Especially after the last incident with Tony’s toaster that Wade had happily told him about, munching on a taco. If Iron Man didn’t approve of Wade being around before, he certainly didn’t now. And he didn’t need Steve on his case again. The team with the two of them was perfectly capable of taking out a threat without causing too much damage.

That was, if Wade even heard the message. Otherwise he’d have to do it himself, Spider-style.

He sprinted towards his apartment, up the stairs and almost ran through the door, before he stopped to unlock it. Then he resumed his panic run until he reached his computer, which he started up and sat down in front of.

That was when he realized something.

“Shit, Aunt May...” he fumbled for his phone, dialing her number in and closing his eyes, trying not to wince when he heard her voice. “Well?”

“I-I’m sorry Aunt May. I can’t make it today.” He heard her sigh at the other end, resigned. He hated it, but he couldn’t leave work. “What’s it this time, Peter? Cat up a tree?” She didn’t know he was Spider-Man, but she still believed him to be solving problems like that in his free time.

“I feel terrible about canceling, really, I do,” he said, typing in his password. “But something’s come up at the office, and they’re all depending on me.” Partially true, because both Valeria’s negatives and the the Red Hood couldn’t wait. Guilt gnawed away at him.

“I suppose I’ll stow these cookies away for next time.”

“Um, Aunt May?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I saw the news today morning. There’s a dangerous vigilante near the area, and-“

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, sounding a little more self-assured that Peter would have liked, “I’ve already met him. I don’t stand masked menaces around, anyway.”

He nodded in understanding despite knowing that his aunt couldn’t see him. Then he realized what she’d actually said. 

“Wait, he... approached you? When? Why? W-“

Aunt May sounded extremely nonchalant about it, even when she cut in. “I told him to leave. No one bests this Parker.” Her voice was teasing, but it didn’t calm his racing heart. “And he left?”

“Yes!” She even sounded triumphant about it. 

Peter’s thoughts were racing as fast as his heartbeat. The guy had met his aunt, which meant that he could’ve followed her home, which meant that he now knew Peter’s location, if he knew his identity, which he obviously did because why would he hang around that area of all places-

“Peter? Don’t worry, dear. I’m perfectly fine, and if the mask had wanted to do anything, he would’ve already.”

“Yeah...” that was true, practically speaking. He pulled up a report on the Red Hood, reading witness accounts, and one thing that seemed constant was that the man carried guns and other weapons. A red bat on his chest-plate, and similarly shaped weaponry were a few other features.

“Alright. Go solve their problems, Peter. And don’t you dare miss the next dinner!”

“Yes, Aunt May,” he said, pulling up more articles and images, nodding to no one in sight. She cut the call just as Peter came across a particular piece.

‘THE RED HOOD’S NOT A VILLAIN - AND HERE’S WHY.’

While Peter did, on a regular basis, avoid such articles (because sometimes, the information was so inaccurate that it made butter replicas of wax structures look real), it had witness descriptions and a few select images that were real. 

Just then, his phone rang, and he frowned at the screen. Anna Maria.

“Hey. I found something you might wanna see.”

“Is it about-“

“The Hood? Yeah. Look.”

The series of pictures being sent to his phone had him scowl because that would be murder on his storage, when he realized it was snaps of a few walls around the city, with ‘Hi, Spider’ written across them in rather bright pink spray paint. There was only one person who could’ve and would do such a thing.

“You think it’s a threat?”

“I doubt it, Peter. He would’ve made a move by now if that was the case.” The woman frowned, but while he couldn’t see it, he could tell she had. “I say you confront him. He doesn’t appear to be a super.”

“The guns,” he agreed, staring at the last image, which was of the Hood himself. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“He hasn’t been harming innocent civilians, so to speak. Only criminals, and those ones high up the ladder are the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Peter pulled up all the reports he’d found, comparing each one and skimming through them for any more vital information. “He’s trying to get my attention.”

“Maybe,” Anna agreed. “Don’t count on the other stuff, though. Its just threads that we’re connecting by the tips. One thing’s for certain - he does want to meet you for whatever reason.” He heard her shuffle around for a few seconds. 

“We don’t need any trouble,” Peter agreed, suiting up as they spoke. “If he has malicious intents, I’ll shut him down.”

“Hm.” More shuffling. “And tell him to cut down on pink spray paint. Stuff’s everywhere.”

“Yeah. Red’s the summoning color, not its discount partner.”

“You should research in the meanwhile, Peter,” she said after a chuckle. “The Hood has only been sighted at night, according to the images and witness reports. He’ll be out soon.”

Peter frowned. Only at night? Maybe that’s why there was a bat as his preferred symbol. She ended the call just as he opened his mouth to question it, leaving him suited up in a quiet, messy apartment.

After prepping up, he pulled up the window and swung out just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

-

“Ooh, so I’m gettin’ green cash? And I don’t have to splatter someone’s brain fluid?” A pause, “thank Cobain! I’m a green leaf now anyway.”

“You just have to retrieve and return them to me. The location’s in the folder I gave you.”

“Aw. This reminds me of when the writer’s trying to fit in an impromptu conversation just to drop in clues, and it doesn’t work! Don’t worry, I won’t say what this one’s about, ‘cause spoilers suck ass.”

“... do we have a deal?”

“Guess what? I’m in. Yeah, I’m as surprised as you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we see Peter around. 
> 
> I had initially planned for their meeting to take place in this chapter, but it got really long and that’s why I scrapped it. Didn't wanna rush things along too much.
> 
> I wasn’t quite happy with the way this turned out, but do let me know what you all thought. The next chapter will probably be up by the next month, if everything goes smoothly.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so first off, this is my very first work for these fandoms. It ain’t gonna be true to canon (that much) since I only got into comics around October last year, and there’s only so much you can get into your system in the span of a few months. 
> 
> Yeah, this is gonna be a mixed glob of what canon is. Sue me.
> 
> Updates will be excruciatingly slow, because RL. I will try to break that vicious cycle from time to time, but expect an update once every month or so.


End file.
